


both hands over my mouth

by akaparalian



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Antagonism, Held Down, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Neediness, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 19:56:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18453548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaparalian/pseuds/akaparalian
Summary: Dex still growls into the kiss, though, and bites down on Derek’s tongue when he tries to slip it into his mouth almost harshly enough to make it bleed. Derek pulls back, trying to hide his elation and how fucking turned on he is behind a disapproving frown.“C’mon, is that any way to treat me?” he asks, tightening his grip on Dex’s wrists and not at all missing the way it makes his hips twitch forward, not that he really needed the proof that Dex is hard in his jeans right now. “I’m gonna take care of you if you let me, baby. But you have to let me.”“Don’t need you totake care of me,” Dex spits. “I just need you to fuck me.”





	both hands over my mouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nausicaa_lives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_lives/gifts).



> Happy Smut Swap, nausicaa_lives! Writing this was a kind of weird process for me; I struggled to come up with ideas for a little while, and then once I finally go to this idea, it all just poured out of me at once. I'm happy with the end result, and I hope you are too!
> 
> Title from "Tongue" by MNEK.

Honestly, Derek's not sure how it started -- it feels like one day they just sort of slipped sideways from teammates who occasionally screamed at each other to roommates who occasionally screamed at each other to Dex's brief stint living in the basement to... this. Whatever this is that they're doing these days.

He's all the way across the room, but he can see Dex clearly: leaning up against a wall, not quite dancing but bopping his head a little in that awkward, unconscious way of his, talking to some girl that Derek vaguely recognizes from kegsters past. They're clearly just friends, if that, nothing about the way they're standing or the expressions on either of their faces indicating anything beyond that, and so Derek gets the feeling that, for once, Dex isn't trying to make him jealous. They've played *that* game before -- not that Dex ever openly admitted to what he was doing, but it hadn't exactly been hard to puzzle out when Derek had walked in on him and that guy from the soccer team in *Derek's fucking bed,* for God's sake -- but that must not be on the table tonight, because Dex and this girl are just chatting, cool as can be. Between the fact that they're separated by the entire living room and a crush of people besides, and the way the music is pounding so loud Derek can feel it in his bones, there's no way he can get even the slightest sense of what they're saying, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel the little needling sense of curiosity as he keeps his distance and tries to pretend he doesn't give a shit what Dex gets up to. 

If Dex wants to spend this party talking to some girl in the corner in a way that won't even get him laid, then fine. That's not Derek's problem, and he feels like he's made that pretty clear to Dex at this point in their whatever-it-is-that-they're-doing. Derek's not going to spend the night worrying about him; he's going to have a good time.

And yet he's only two beers in -- not nearly far enough gone that anyone's even started to whisper about Nursey Patrol, thank fuck -- when someone grabs his shoulder with a big, warm hand and says, "Are you ignoring me?"

Derek turns around with one eyebrow already raised, and Dex just scowls back at him, the hand that's not holding onto Derek's shoulder clenched just a little too tightly around a Solo cup. Something about his expression sparks a little ember to life in the pit of Derek's stomach, and all at once he reconsiders what he'd been thinking earlier. Dex may not have been trying to make him jealous, but clearly there was *something* going on, because he looks like Derek pissed in his Wheaties, and Derek's at least eighty percent sure they're not actually fighting right now.

"Of course not," Derek drawls, brushing Dex's hand off his shoulder casually and smirking at him a little. "Why, should I be?"

"Don't be stupid," Dex snipes back, his scowl intensifying. "I was just wondering where you were."

"Oh, and you thought you had to come yell at me to get my attention?" Derek asks, grinning a little, starting to feel out the shape of where this is going. God, he hopes he's right about where this is going.

"I don't need your *attention,*" Dex says, his tone caustic but the way he keeps his gaze fixed to the hollow of Derek's throat more than clear. 

"Then why do you care if I'm ignoring you?" Derek counters easily, his smile widening. He jerks his chin in the general direction of where Dex had been talking to that girl earlier. "Besides, weren't you occupied anyway? Where'd your friend go?"

"God, you're the worst," Dex growls, grip tightening even farther on his cup -- the plastic rim actually cracks a little under the force, and the way that that sends a thrill through Derek should probably be a little concerning. "Forget I even said anything, Jesus, go back to whatever crawled up your ass and died--"

"Oh, come on, *William*," Derek says, leaning forward so that he can speak directly into Dex's ear -- the party's loud enough to provide plenty of excuse, and he keeps his expression perfectly neutral so that hopefully it doesn't look like anything out of the ordinary, but he doesn't miss the way Dex shivers. "You're the one who came over here to me. Don't act like you don't want something from me now."

"Oh my God, shut *up*," Dex says, but his free hand clenches tightly in the fabric of Derek's shirt, so it's easy enough to read between the lines. "Like I want anything from you, you fucking -- I was just--"

"C'mon, let's go upstairs," Derek says easily, before pulling back to a normal speaking distance and grinning at what he sees when he can get a proper look at Dex's face: that pinkness in his cheeks could probably be blamed on alcohol if he really wanted to, but Derek knows better. Derek knows *way* better. "I'm already kinda over this party anyway."

He turns without waiting to see if Dex is really following, and doesn't even try to look or listen behind him as he makes his way up to the second floor. They may not have put a formal definition on this thing that they're doing, but Dex has never in his life backed down from a challenge, regardless.

Derek leaves the door open behind him just a crack and flops down onto the bottom bunk, his eyes falling shut, and sure enough, it's not thirty seconds before he hears footfalls and then the snap of the door being slammed. He looks over to see Dex leaning against the door, his chest visibly rising and falling with the force of his breathing, and has to tamp down hard on the wicked grin that wants to creep over his face at the sight. 

“Why are you being such a brat tonight?” he asks, keeping his voice conversational and easy, not even coming close to moving from his spot on the bed. “If you want something from me, you know you just have to say it. You know I’m always here for you.”

“Oh, would you can it with that shit?” Dex snaps, even though his blush is getting more and more obvious. “Stop acting like I want anything to do with you, asshole. Sharing a room with you is bad enough.”

“Gonna move back down to the basement, baby?” Derek teases, and Dex grits his teeth and snarls wordlessly at him in response, but his blush is getting darker and darker, making his freckles pop. 

Derek relents a little, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and crossing the room to where Dex is standing in just a few strides. The music from downstairs is so loud that it’s rattling the floorboards, but Derek’s entire world has faded down to Dex standing in front of him, every line in his body drawn so tight he looks like he’d snap at a light breeze.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Dex asks him, his voice rough and just on the edge of splitting open. “Coming up here was _your_ fucking idea.”

“But you’re the one who came up to me downstairs,” Derek counters, smirking at him. “Pretty sure this was _your_ idea, Dexy, when you get down to it. _I_ was gonna leave you alone all night.”

“Ugh, stop calling me that,” Dex snaps. “It sounds fucking stupid.”

“Stop mouthing off, then,” Derek says mildly, leaning in just a little closer — almost, _almost_ close enough to touch, but with just the barest space between them. He can feel Dex shiver even though they’re not touching, which somehow makes it even hotter than it otherwise would have been.

“You think you’re so fuckin’ smart.”

Derek hums, not quite agreeing or disagreeing, which just seems to piss Dex off more.

“You think you’re so fuckin’ _in control,_ ” he seethes. “Big fucking deal, you were gonna leave me alone. You’re not gonna touch me now. You’re not gonna give me what I want, fine. You’re not my fucking boyfriend; I don’t owe you anything. I’ll go right back downstairs and —”

He flinches, just a little, when Derek’s hand smacks into the door right next to his head, and Derek actually kind of feels bad about that — he really hadn’t meant to scare him, just to shut him up — but he can’t really bring himself to focus on guilt when Dex just handed him all but everything.

“So you _do_ want something,” he says, grinning widely. “Thanks for finally nutting up and admitting it, Will.” 

Dex scowls. “God, that’s almost worse than _Dexy,_ coming from you. Can it with that shit.”

“Nice try, but changing the subject’s not gonna work now.” Derek leans in just a little closer, just _almost_ touching, and speaks into Dex’s ear again, just like he had downstairs: “What do you want?”

This time, Dex’s growl comes out very, very close to a scream. 

Oh, Jesus, he’s really got him. “Gotta tell me what you want or I’m not gonna give it to you,” Derek says, letting his voice drop low and syrupy-sweet. “I’m not laying one fucking finger on you until you say the word, baby.”

“Fuck you,” Dex spits.

“If that’s what you want,” Derek tells him agreeably, “but you gotta ask nicely.”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Dex repeats, his eyes blazing, but all at once something in his expression visibly tips over, and he says, “Fuck you, I’m not gonna beg, just fucking touch me or I swear to God—”

All at once, Derek’s all over him, pinning Dex’s wrists neatly to the door above his head with one of his own hands and grabbing his chin with the other.

“Christ, baby, was that so hard?” he croons, grinning like the cat that’s got the cream as he watches the way Dex’s eyes flutter shut and his mouth drops open, his cock twitching in his pants at the sight. “Why is it always so hard for you to just tell me what you want? You’re so good for me once you just let _go_ , but you’re always wound so damn tight. Just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

It’s not hard to imagine how Dex would respond to that normally, all the spite and fire that would come spewing out of his mouth, but now he just keens, his answering scowl so faint it’s barely even there.

“You ass,” he says breathlessly, making another high, needy sound when Derek leans in to nuzzle along his jawline, grinning the whole time. “Put your money where your mouth is, then, unless you’re too—”

But Derek doesn’t get the chance to find out what Dex was going to call him — too scared, too full of himself, too proud? — because he takes the opportunity to kiss him instead, a gasping, biting thing full of just this side of too much tongue. It’s probably the second or third most effective and consistent way he’s found of shutting Dex the hell up when he gets going; shame it’s not really one he can pull out in public.

Dex still growls into the kiss, though, and bites down on Derek’s tongue when he tries to slip it into his mouth almost harshly enough to make it bleed. Derek pulls back, trying to hide his elation and how fucking turned on he is behind a disapproving frown.

“C’mon, is that any way to treat me?” he asks, tightening his grip on Dex’s wrists and not at all missing the way it makes his hips twitch forward, not that he really needed the proof that Dex is hard in his jeans right now. “I’m gonna take care of you if you let me, baby. But you have to let me.”

“Don’t need you to _take care of me_ ,” Dex spits. “I just need you to fuck me.”

“There we go,” Derek murmurs, kissing him again — light and quick this time — before pulling back far enough that he’s sure Dex can see his grin, though his eyelids are heavy and drooping already. “See, was that so hard?”

“I’ll show you what’s hard,” Dex mutters, and Derek rolls his eyes, but doesn’t otherwise dignify that with a direct response.

“Get on the bed,” he says instead, stepping back and dropping his hold on Dex’s wrists so that he can gesture behind him instead. “Go on. And strip for me while you’re at it.”

There’s a little grunt of assent, and Dex slips away from him, heading for the bed and already pulling his shirt off before he’s quite out of Derek’s line of sight. Derek stays turned towards the door, though, stripping slowly out of his own shirt and leaving just his low-slung jeans while he tries his best to get a hand on his breathing and his heartbeat, trying to steady himself and calm down. He wants to make this last, and, with as much of a brat as Dex is being tonight, he wants to fucking _ruin_ him, and neither of those things is going to work out if he isn’t in control. So he stays turned towards the door and waits, listening to the sound of Dex’s clothes hitting the ground one after the other: the _clink_ of his belt, the _thump_ of his jeans, a lower, duller sound that’s probably his shoes getting toed off, and then Derek takes a deep breath, nodding to himself, preparing to turn around—

There’s a creak of the bedsprings, and then a soft moan, and then a slick, heady noise. And then the dull _thunk_ of something heavy being set on the bedside table, and Derek freezes. When he does turn around, it’s very, very, _very_ slowly, with his blood rushing in his ears, already half-knowing what he’ll find but completely unable to believe it.

Sure enough, though, Dex is on the bed with his hips canted up, one leg drawn off to the side, an obvious hint of lube slick between his legs. And on the table beside him is a fucking impressively large buttplug, also glistening with lube.

“Holy shit,” Derek blurts, completely outside of his own control, his voice raw with wonder and heat. “Oh, baby, you _didn’t_.”

“Obviously I did,” Dex snaps back at him, but his voice is shakier now, too, and as needy as Derek’s ever heard him. “Get _over_ here.”

Far be it from Derek to resist a command like that. He very nearly trips as he scrambles across the room, and he _does_ loose his balance just in time to come crashing down on top of Dex, hands on either side of his head. Dex stares up at him, eyes wide and pupils already blown, and Derek stares back down with equal awe. His hand creeps down before he can stop it, and Dex’s breath hitches when Derek’s hand skims over his hole.

“God, look at you,” Derek breathes, petting again and again over Dex’s rim, marvelling at how easy it is to sink inside, teasing Dex with just the tips of his fingers. “Can’t believe you did this, baby, you’re amazing. Kept yourself all slick and ready for me all night, huh? Were you thinking about this while you were talking to your friend downstairs? Why didn’t you just tell me, huh? You know I would have been up here with you in an instant if you had just told me about this when I gave you the chance.”

“Shut up,” Dex gasps, but his voice cracks in the middle of the phrase. And, besides, he cants his hips up eagerly into Derek’s touch, begging wordlessly, crying out high and harsh and reedy when one of Derek’s fingers finally sinks all the way inside him — followed quickly by another, and then another, becuase _shit_ , he must have prepped himself for ages to get this loose. No wonder he’d worn the plug — it would’ve been a shame to lose all that hard work.

“When did you even _do_ this?” Derek asks, even as he fucks into Dex with three fingers, scissoring and stretching them just slightly to test how ready he is, though there’s not really any need — it’s beyond obvious that Derek could sink into him right now, with absolutely zero further preparation, and no doubt that’s exactly what Dex wants. “When did you even have _time?”_

“Class got cancelled,” Dex manages, clenching down tight around Derek’s fingers and titling his hips up to meet his thrusts. “I’ve been wanting to do this for ages, though — I bought that stupid thing online, I—”

Derek groans and buries his face in the crook of Dex’s throat, heart beating fit to burst. Jesus, there’s only so much a guy can take, isn’t there? “ _Fuck_ , you’re incredible. Planning this for me, getting yourself ready for me—”

“Fat lot of good it’s gonna do if you won’t even fuck me,” Dex pants, and part of Derek wants to drag this out a little longer if he’s gonna get all mouthy like that even _now_ , but, well. His dick is so hard it feels like it’s about to fall off if he doesn’t do something about it soon, and Dex doesn’t look much better, his own cock red and weeping over his stomach. 

“Okay, baby, okay,” Derek agrees, rearing back just far enough to start fussing with his jeans. _Stupid_ fucking idea not to take them off before he got into the bed, but then, Dex _had_ distracted him. He just barely manages to get his jeans and boxers kicked off in one frustrating tangle before Dex is dragging him back in by the nape of his neck, bringing his thighs up on either side of Derek’s hips and crying out when Derek’s cock bumps against him.

“Condom,” Derek gasps against his lips, pulling his hips back just a little, _just_ enough, and Dex grumbles before scrabbling around in the nightstand for one, slapping it against Derek’s chest impatiently. 

Derek rolling it on gives Dex a few moments of freedom with his hands, which he uses to rake his nails down Derek’s shoulderblades, spurring him on — but Derek knows how to make Dex go out of his mind by now, and it’s not by leaving his hands free.

He doesn’t give him any warning, just lunges forward to grab his wrists again, just like he had before. He uses both hands this time, at least at first, until he gets them corralled together and switches the grip to just one hand. Dex writhes under him, cursing and spitting, his cock jumping against his stomach as he tests Derek’s grip and finds it immovable.

“There you go,” Derek croons down to him when he settles, all of him falling into stillness except his hips, which are still twitching just a hair’s breadth from Derek’s cock. “There you go, I’ve got you.” He pauses, then grins. “ _Chill_ , Dex, okay? I’ve got you.”

Dex snarls at him for that, but to be fair, it’s maybe earned. “You gonna fuck me, or are you just gonna talk?”

“I’m gonna take care of you,” Derek corrects, pausing only a second, before adding, “So, yes, I’m gonna fuck you, baby. Is that what you want?”

“Fuck you,” Dex says, but his voice is sounding more and more strained. “Fuck you, you know it is.”

“You gotta say it,” Derek tells him, lets his hips come forward just enough for his cock to rub up against Dex’s hole. “You gotta tell me what you want, baby, what you need. I’ll give it to you, but you still haven’t said it.”

“I said it before!” Dex protests, groaning when Derek’s dick brushes him again.

“I want you to say it _now_ ,” Derek counters, taking himself in hand now to rub the head of his cock even more insistently around Dex’s hole, teasing the head of it just inside his rim before pulling it away.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dex spits, but there’s no mistaking that tone, and sure enough, barely a heartbeat later he’s throwing his head back and groaning, “Fuck me, fuck me, _please,_ Derek, I need it, fucking _please_ —”

Derek leans forward and sinks into him without a word, his cock throbbing and his chest tight, but the stupid thing is, it’s not even Dex’s begging that’s really got him by the balls. It’s the fact that Dex begging for him is pretty much the only time he ever uses Derek’s fucking _name_.

Still. There’s a time and a place for ruminating on that, probably, and it’s definitely _not_ when he’s sinking slowly into Dex’s ass, hot and wet and ready for him, with Dex dragging him forward by digging his heels into the small of Derek’s back.

“Shit,” Dex whines when Derek bottoms out, writhing underneath him like he’s trying to get his cock in even deeper. “Fuck, _please_ , Derek, I need it—”

“I’ve got you, baby,” Derek reassures him, and draws his hips back to fuck into him in steady, smooth strokes, staring down at Dex’s face with wide eyes the entire fucking time, watching the way he falls apart and finally lets all of that tension just fucking flood under him.

His pale skin is flushed all over, and his cock looks red-hot to the touch where it’s straining against his belly, leaving a sticky trail all over his abs — Derek puts a pin in that; that’s going to be a fucking _gift_ to clean up later, after he’s gotten Dex even filthier, hopefully — but the best part is his face, the way he goes from moment to moment between a smooth, blissed-out expression and a pinched look of need so intense it almost seems like agony. His mouth seems to drop open just a little farther with every snap of Derek’s hips, and his eyes are still open, but only just, hazy and clearly not actually seeing much of anything. His Adam’s apple bobs as swallows around a groan, and Derek can’t stop himself from leaning forward to bite it, growling and groaning himself at the way it makes Dex arch up towards his body.

Derek pulls back just in time to realize Dex has started to babble actual words again, moving wildly in an attempt to meet Derek’s every thrust, ankles locked together behind Derek’s back. 

“Please,” he gasps, “shit, please, I’m so close — I need —”

He interrupts himself with a shout, and Derek grins, slowing his hips for just a minute to draw out that noise, grinding insistently against Dex’s prostate. “I’ll give you what you need,” he says, huffing the words around his own groan as Dex clenches down around him. “Won’t I?”

“Fuck, _there_ ,” Dex manages, the words coming out garbled and rough, and Derek obliges him with just one more thrust, as hard as he can manage, and that one thrust turns out to be all it takes: he comes hard all over himself, and Derek watches, rapt, as his back arches up off the bed and his cock jumps, completely untouched, between them. Come goes more or less everywhere: Dex’s chest, Dex’s chin, _Derek’s_ chin.

Derek stares down at him, awed and so incredibly turned on that he feels like it might actually kill him, for as long as it takes him to come floating back down. And then Dex slowly blinks his eyes open to stare right back, vision clearly still hazy, chest still heaving with exertion.

“Fuck,” Derek hisses, and then starts thrusting into him again without warning, not quite able to stop himself. Dex cries out, fucked-out and oversensitive, but he also bows up into the sensation again, so Derek figures he’s probably in the clear.

He’s already teetering dangerously close to the edge — has been, if he’s being honest, since Dex first came up to him downstairs, and certainly since he saw the fucking plug. And then Dex, the asshole, looks up at him through half-lidded eyes and groans, “C’mon, Derek, I need it.”

“What?” Derek asks, hips stuttering a little, caught off-guard. Dex has already come — Dex came so hard Derek’s pretty sure he blacked out for a second, so he’s not really sure what else he’s asking for, here.

Unless—

“Fucking _come in me_ ,” Dex says, voice high and reedy as he clenches down around Derek’s cock desperately, even though that must only make the oversensitivity even worse, even though— “Come on, Der, _fuck_. Please.”

“Oh my God,” Derek says weakly, even as some distant, somehow-still-rational part of his brain makes a mental note to talk to Dex about getting tested together and circles it three times in red Sharpie, casually reminding the rest of him that it would mean he wouldn’t have to be wearing a condom right now, and wouldn’t _that_ be nice, with Dex fucking _begging for him to come inside, what the fuck_. “Oh my God, okay— okay—”

“ _Please_ ,” Dex begs him again, and that’s it. That turns out to be Derek’s breaking point.

He’s may be pretty sure that Dex had blacked out when he came, but he _knows_ that he does; he has a dim sort of awareness of bowing over Dex’s body and crying out, gripping his wrists so hard that he’ll probably leave bruises, and then the next thing he knows he’s rolled over on his side, blinking across the bed at Dex, who’s in the act of tying off the condom and throwing it away.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and Dex jumps, before turning back to look at him, smirking.

“Looks like I just unlocked a kink, you nasty motherfucker,” he says triumphantly, and normally, Derek would roll his eyes and snap back, but — wow. _Wow_ , this experience is giving him a whole new understanding of what it means to come one’s brains out.

“C’mere,” he says instead of accepting Dex’s invitation to snark back, holding out his arms invitingly, and, wonder of wonders, Dex just huffs a little before sinking willingly into his arms, slipping his own around Derek’s shoulders and letting his head rest against Derek’s collarbone. 

The party appears to still be in full swing downstairs, but up here, it’s just a distant rumbling; far more important is the sound of Dex’s breathing matching his as they both slowly even out, settling back down from their high and clinging to one another much more closely than either of them would normally allow. All the tension that had been practically sizzling off of Dex all evening is completely gone, and in its place a warm stillness that Derek treasures more than almost anything else in the world, and only gets to see when they lie together like this.

“You’re something else, Dex, you know that?” Derek murmurs, burying his head in Dex’s mussed-up hair to muffle the words. Still, Dex snorts from beside him.

“You’re pretty out there yourself, Nurse,” Dex replies, the words rumbling against Derek’s chest. “I mean, really. All you want in the whole world is me begging for you, is that it?”

“Hey, you’re the one who was just _dying_ for me to come in your ass,” Derek points out, but there’s no heat or bite to the words. Partially because post-orgasm is the one time they seem to be able to reliably talk to each other without sniping, and partially because — well. He doesn’t exactly want to discourage Dex from doing it again, does he?

“Shut up,” Dex mumbles, but he sounds more sleepy than embarrassed. Derek huffs out a laugh, wriggling just slightly so he can bury one hand in Dex’s hair and sling the other over his lower back.

“Make me,” he replies, but by the time the words are out of his mouth, his eyes are already slipping closed, and he knows Dex can’t be far behind. They should really clean up — hell, not so long ago he’d been practically salivating at the idea of cleaning Dex up with his _mouth_ — but there’ll be time for that later, probably. And maybe for a little more talking, too, if he can manage it before the spell breaks, and whatever’s keeping them both soft and quiet and kind right now slips away again.

Still. There’ll be time for that later. Derek just has to hope that this feeling lasts. He tightens his grip on Dex, just a little, and lets himself drift.


End file.
